Wednesday, May 14, 2014

For the first time in 22 years, these fine, upstanding citizens are flying across the ocean.

Mom & Dad Winner

As I write this, they’re landing at Ben Gurion airport in Israel and
making their way to Jerusalem. In their honor, I’ve thought of a few words of
advice to help curb their culture shock and embrace this adventure. I think
this will be an ongoing blog post as I imagine there will be a couple of times throughout
their visit when I will say, “Woop, should have thought to tell you that…” (I also totally welcome any readers who are familiar with the area to send me other thoughts to
add.) But without further ado, here is the first installment:

Scroll to the bottom for updates

Bring shoes with traction. Thousands of battles and
pilgrims trodding the stones of the Old City have worn them down quite a bit. And
avoid the area altogether in the rain – it becomes like a luge. Once I saw
this Orthodox Russian woman slide straight from the Jewish Quarter into the
Muslim Quarter’s barbershop in one quick run – she made incredible time, too.

Throw
your concept of space out the window. You think that bus can’t fit? It totally
can. (Just get out of the Armenian Quarter tunnel before it does.) It’s not
uncommon for a vendor to help you make change by digging into your purse or the
next customer “in line” at the nut stand to breathe down your neck (or more
accurately, shove his cashews right past you). They may look like us and many
of them speak our language, but this is not the wide-open plains of Kansas
anymore.

You can drink Jerusalem water (and most anywhere
in the country) from the tap. It’s perfectly safe. Just note: drinking too much
of it can lead to delusions that you are the messiah.

Upon my arrival, my good friend gave me some
powerful advice that I have never forgotten. We were on our way to get some
shwarma from our parking spot on the hill. Once across the road, he grabbed my
shoulder and looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Rachel. You must be very,
very careful. Look both ways when crossing the street here or you will die.”

Do not take anything personally. The waiter may
scream at you. The taxi driver may scream at you. You may ask for help, and the
man on the street corner may scream at you…and then kindly point you in the
right direction. Do not take anything personally – it is the Israeli way.

And since we’re on the topic of asking for
directions, most people speak English if you need help. Just look lost (or
sometimes don’t even bother and they’ll offer to help anyway). Two important
tangential comments, however: 1) If they don’t actually know the directions,
they’ll advise you confidently just the same. 2) Do not let makeshift tour
guides follow you through the city, point out random facts, and ask you for
money.

I think I’ve said this before, but it really
could do to mention again unless you are a masochist and/or really love crowds: avoid the shuk (market) on a Friday. Think Gasparilla (for all you Florida folk), but with an emphasis on produce instead of beads...and I guess showing your boobs won't get you cheaper avocados. So, maybe not the best analogy, but in any case, we’ll go and get a
nice slice of halva on Sunday afternoon to avoid the swarms of people

The money here is make-believe. This is a
survival tactic and I strongly encourage you to adopt this philosophy while you’re
here (especially while I’m in tow ;)).

Most of the large explosions are celebratory
firecrackers. The rest are better left under the same aforementioned
assumption.

Drinking tea with a shop owner means you might
have just bought yourself a new rug.

Watch out for the cat poop.

“Hakol
yihieh beseder” – everything will be
fine. “Eiffo sherutim?” – where’s the
bathroom? What else do you need to know?

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These are the posts I'm adding throughout our adventure, or that others are contributing

Sooooo, precisely 4.5 hours after I thought my parents had landed, I came upon a very important life lesson in international travel: The international dateline. I have no idea where the screw up came about as every itinerary I've seen, sent by my very meticulous father, indicates their arrival today, May 15th, in year of our Lord 2014 (according to some, I guess). But alas, they are really coming tomorrow, May 16th, which makes me very sad as I a) do not get to see them for another 20 hours and b) purchased a significant number of chocolate croissants and savory pastries this morning, which will be stale by tomorrow. (Please note the subtextual lesson here: purchase fresh, hot biscuits. Always.) To be continued...

About Me

My name is Rachel Winner. In January 2012, a woman I truly admire looked me in the eye and called me an adventurer. Not wanting to be disrespectful, I didn’t argue or tell her that I am terrified of kayaking , I think camping is stupid (probably because my friends keep inviting me to go in December) and that I’d rather do laundry than cling to the side of a cliff. She explained that last year, I came to her saying “I’m moving to Mexico. I have no idea what I’m doing and if I can do it, but that’s my plan.” And I did. Nearly a year later, we are having the same conversation about my new writing business in North Carolina, WinnersWords. And yet, here I go. I started this blog when I moved to Mexico, and I’m keeping it up with life lessons, musings and observations – all of which make up my grand adventure.